She had to push them away, and cursed all of them for the ungodly strength in their shoulders. “Can everyone just take a step back here? Please?”
“You wanted us here.”
“Not to take pictures,” she hissed.
“Does this mean I can leave?” Yamcha tried. “Maybe this should really be between you two.”
“Okay, guys. I just need a second.” Her posse would be right there, in the next room over. She could handle this. Chi-Chi was already planning on knitting booties. Her mother used highly unscientific means of guessing the gender. Krillin was already buckling under the requests for babysitting.
“Vegeta.” I love you. You know that, don’t you, you jackass. I love you so much. That, after all the other crap that had happened, was so little. “I’m pregnant.”
But Vegeta’s reaction was to look at her, mouth open. Eyes black glass, as pitiless and clear as the span between the stars. Then he threw back his head and began to laugh. “No, no, woman, I will not believe this.”
“You’re going to be a dad again,” Bulma told him.
“That’s not…” But he was moving passed denial. Passed rage and bargaining and even depression. Perhaps he would double-back, but not now. He was going to be the father of two children. He and Bulma would have a second child and if Mom was right, it was going to be a little girl. There would be more Saiyans. A shiver ran through him, and Bulma believed Vegeta would rise and maybe even hug her. Maybe even smile and say while sober and with no threat of a dramatic death hanging over them, that he loved her too. He would believe her. And he would like it too.
Goku came bounding back in, the puppy covered in mud and dog shit all over your new white furniture. “Yeah. I mean. Maybe it’s Yamcha’s too. But that would be neat too!”
You know, after the stress, all that red meat, and his age, maybe Bulma should have given her husband some beta blockers. Aspirin once a day and red wine in moderation. She vowed to cut back on smoking and aiming the second-hand fume purposely in his direction. Her husband did make a desperate grab for his heart, then let it go. He let a lot of things go, like all the muscles in his face. Only Vegeta’s blinking reassured her that he still lived.
She looked into those beedy black eyes, and hoped this baby would have them. “Yeah. It’s from that night. And yeah. Everyone knows.”
Remember Part 5
“You wanted us here.”
“Not to take pictures,” she hissed.
“Does this mean I can leave?” Yamcha tried. “Maybe this should really be between you two.”
“Okay, guys. I just need a second.” Her posse would be right there, in the next room over. She could handle this. Chi-Chi was already planning on knitting booties. Her mother used highly unscientific means of guessing the gender. Krillin was already buckling under the requests for babysitting.
“Vegeta.” I love you. You know that, don’t you, you jackass. I love you so much. That, after all the other crap that had happened, was so little. “I’m pregnant.”
But Vegeta’s reaction was to look at her, mouth open. Eyes black glass, as pitiless and clear as the span between the stars. Then he threw back his head and began to laugh. “No, no, woman, I will not believe this.”
“You’re going to be a dad again,” Bulma told him.
“That’s not…” But he was moving passed denial. Passed rage and bargaining and even depression. Perhaps he would double-back, but not now. He was going to be the father of two children. He and Bulma would have a second child and if Mom was right, it was going to be a little girl. There would be more Saiyans. A shiver ran through him, and Bulma believed Vegeta would rise and maybe even hug her. Maybe even smile and say while sober and with no threat of a dramatic death hanging over them, that he loved her too. He would believe her. And he would like it too.
Goku came bounding back in, the puppy covered in mud and dog shit all over your new white furniture. “Yeah. I mean. Maybe it’s Yamcha’s too. But that would be neat too!”
You know, after the stress, all that red meat, and his age, maybe Bulma should have given her husband some beta blockers. Aspirin once a day and red wine in moderation. She vowed to cut back on smoking and aiming the second-hand fume purposely in his direction. Her husband did make a desperate grab for his heart, then let it go. He let a lot of things go, like all the muscles in his face. Only Vegeta’s blinking reassured her that he still lived.
She looked into those beedy black eyes, and hoped this baby would have them. “Yeah. It’s from that night. And yeah. Everyone knows.”
Vegeta bared teeth.
Goku took a step back. Then he hid behind Bulma.